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If they with purer drops dilate,
And lodge where entity began,
They actuate with a genial heat,
And kindle into future Man.
But, when our lives are Nature's due,
Air, feas, nor fire, their frumes diffolve
They matier, through all forms, pursue,
And oft to genial hea's revolve.
Thus once an Animalcule prov'd,
When Man, a patron to the bays;
This patron was in Greece belov’d;
Yet fame was faithless to his praise.
In Rome this Animalcule grew
Mæcenas, whom the clasics rate!
Among the Gauls, it prov'd Richlieu,
In learning, power, and bounty great.
In Britain, Halifax it rose ;
(By Halifax, bloom'd Congreve's strains);
And now it rediminin'd glows,
To glide through goril:ke-Rutland's veins.
A plague there is, too many know;
Too seldom perfect cures befall it :
The Mufe may term it Beauty's foe;
In physic, the Small-Pox we call it.
From Turks we learn this plague t'assuage,
They, by admitting, turn its course:
Their kiss will tame the tumor's rage;
By yielding, they o'ercome the force.
Thus Rutland did its touch invite,
While, watchful in the ambient air,
This little, guardian, subtil spright
Did with the poison in repair.
Th’infection from the heart it clears;
Th’infection, now dilated thin,
In pearly pimples but appears,
Expellid upon the surface skin.
And now it, mouldering, wastes away :
'Tis gone !-doom'd to return no more !
Our Animalcule keeps its stay,
And must new labyrinths explore.
And now the Noble's thoughts are seen,
Unmark'd, it views his heart's desires !
It now reflects what it has been,
And, rapturous, at his change admires !
tis pristine virtues kept, combine,
To be again in Rutland known But they, immers’d, no longer shine,
Nor equal, nor encrease his own.,
OOM'D to a fate which damps the poet's flame,
A Muse, unfriended, greets thy rising name!
Unvers’d in envy's, or in flattery's phrafe,
Greatness the flies, yet merit claims her praise ;
Nor will the, at her withering wreath repine, 5
But smile, if fame and fortune cherish thine.
The Sciences in thy sweet genius charm,
And, with their strength, thy fex's softness arm.
In thy full figures, painting's force we find,
As music fires, thy language lifts the mind.
Thy power gives form, and touches into life
The passions imag'd in their bleeding strife :
Contrasted strokes, true art and fancy show,
And lights and Mades in lively mixture flow.
Hope attacks Fear, and Reason, Love's control,
Jealousy wounds, and Friendlip heals the soul :
Black Falsehood wears b'ight Gallantry's disguise,
And the gilt cloud'enchants the fair-one's eyes.
Thy dames, in grief and frailties lovely shine,
And when most mortal half appear divine.
If, when some god-like, favourite passion fways,
The willing heart too fatally obeys,
Great minds lament what cruel censure blames,
And ruin'd virtue generous pity claims.
Elita, fill impaint Love's powerful Queen! 25
Let Love, soft Love, exalt each swelling scene.
Arm’d with keen wit, in fame's wide lists advance !
Spain yields in fiction, in politeness France.-
Such orient light, as the first
poets knew, Fiames from thy thought, and brightens every view! 30 A strong, a glorious, a luxuriant fire, Which warins cold wisdom into wild desire ! Thy Fable glows fo rich through every page, What morai's force can the fierce heat assuage?
And yet—but say if ever doom'd to prove 35 The sad, the dear perplexities of Love ! Where seeming transport softens every pain, Where fancy'd freedom waits the winning chain ; Varying from pangs to visionary joys, Sweet is the fate, and charms as it destroys! Say then-if Love to sudden rage gives way, Will the soft passion not relume its sway? Charming, and charm'd, can Love from Love retire ? Can a cold convent quench th' unwilling fire ? Precept, if human, may our thoughts refine, 45 More we admire ! but cannot prove divine.
ANI matchless charms recite ?
Source of ever springing light!
Could I count the vernal flowers,
Count in endless time the hours ;
Count the countless stars above,
Count the captive hearts of Love;
Paint the torture of his fire,
Paint the pangs thofe eyes inspire !
(Pleasing torture, thus to fhine,
Purify'd by fires like thine !)
Then I'd strike the founding string !
Then I'd thy perfection fing.
Mystic world !—Thou soinething more !
Wonder of th’ Almighty's Store !
Nature's depths we oft desery,
Oft they're piered by Learning's eye ;
Thou, if thought on thee would gain,
Prov'ft (like heaven) enquiry vain.
Charms unequal'd we pursue !
Charms in fhining throngs we view!
Number'd.then could nature's be,
Nature's self were poor to thee.